


Mutual Respect Sends His Regrets

by moor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crack, Crossover, F/M, Humor, Parody, Roller Coasters, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 23:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3307241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moor/pseuds/moor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's a best nemesis (Loki) to do when his usual captor (Hermione) is temporarily out of commission? And why isn't trashing major cities fun anymore?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Set Us Up The Bomb

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uchiha.s](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=uchiha.s).



Hermione glared at her visitor balefully.

 

“This is where you’re wasting away your free time?” He sneered, glancing around. _Hovel_ , his narrowing eyes clearly conveyed. His long, fitted hunter green cloak shifted, the fabric catching the light like the scales of a serpent as it swirled around him.

  
It was a struggle, but Hermione withheld the urge to roll her eyes.

 

“Loki, to what do I owe… this?” She settled on, her shoulders shrugging.

 

His nostrils flared as he pinned her with his hard green eyes. “It’s been two weeks. Four bank robberies. Seven terrorist bombings. A grand theft helicarrier joyride and at least a minor international incident.”

 

Hermione sank into the cushions of her bed, her eyelids feeling heavy. Or perhaps it was just the subject matter. Or the drugs. Bless the drugs, even if they did addle her rather impressive brain.

 

“You’ve been busy,” she sighed, shifting a bit to get more comfortable.

 

“Yes, but why haven’t you?” he exploded, throwing his arms wide.

 

She arched a brow at him. “Excuse me?”

 

“Why are you just…” He lifted his arms and gestured at her, disgusted. “Lying here?”

 

“I’m sorry, were you trying to get my attention with the… helicarrier hijacking, was it?”

 

“That was… well, that was more to get up Thor’s skirts, but yes.”

 

Hermione’s head fell back against the pillow as she closed her eyes a moment.

 

“I have a mobile. You could have texted. From the crime scene, if you really wanted. Sent me pictures through Instagram with pretty filters and things.”

 

He pouted, jutting out his lip. “It’s more fun when you’re there to chase me.”

 

“Loki, I’m recovering from surgery and illness. You’re going to have to suck it up like a big girl and find another arch-enemy for at least the next two to three weeks.”

 

“Two to three weeks!” Over went an orderly’s forgotten supply cart.

 

“Shh! Don’t disturb the other patients,” scolded Hermione, glaring at him. “This is a hospital.”

 

His eyes hardened, his lips pulling back in a sneer. “It’ll be in ashes if you don’t—”

 

“ _Petrificus totalus_.”

 

Crossing her arms and tapping her wand impatiently on her patient-gowned bicep, Hermione blew out long and hard through her nose.

 

“Now,” she said, flicking her wand here and there to straighten her sheets, right the cart Loki had toppled, and refresh her carafé of water. She wiggled her nose at Loki, releasing him with a wordless _finite_ , and faced him once more. “We need to make a plan. I can’t have you wreaking havoc without reason.”

 

“I never have a reason,” he said, arching a brow.

 

Hermione tilted her head to the side, getting comfortable, and gave him a knowing look. “No?”

 

Not liking her penetrating gaze, he ignored her taunt and began pacing.

 

If she hadn’t been so tired.... Hermione swallowed the urge to huff at him.

 

She rested her hands atop her covers. “You do, you just don’t know it. It all comes down to your motivations or lack thereof. When you’re bored, you stir up trouble. When you’re challenged, you blow off steam and make things explode. When you’re angry or frustrated you go after large groups of people to make larger groups of people mad at you to give you a way to work out your anger issues with a lot of ninnying and running around. When you haven’t had a good night’s sleep, your hair is skewed and kind of flat in the morning, and you press your lips together more and go to bed after a little bridge-bombing and a gin & tonic. It’s all very simple and boringly predictable, to be honest.” Hermione relaxed against her cushions, shoulders set.

 

“If I’m so predictable, why do you never properly apprehend me?”

 

“I always apprehend you, Loki. I’m not responsible for containing you, though. It’s part of my working contract. What others do with you once I’m done is none of my concern.”

 

“And why is that?”

 

“Job security. For me. As long as I keep catching you, I earn a generously healthy, living income.” She shrugged.

 

His brow furrowed. “You can’t be serious.”

 

“With excellent benefits,” she added.

 

Frowning at her, he faltered in his stride. “You’re honestly telling me you aren’t motivated by saving others from me? Or obstructing my paths of destruction? Or saving the… what do you Midgardians call it…” He came to a stop, staring at the floor. “Ow-zone layer?” He gave her a suspicious look.

 

“Ozone layer.”  
  
He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Regardless. We have a pre-arranged agreement—”

 

“Contract. I’m an independent contractor with the Muggle government, the British Ministry of Magic and the Avengers,” she corrected. “If they decide they’d rather have me fighting another supervillain, I can be re-assigned.”

 

Loki’s nostrils flared. “Don’t speak nonsense.” He began pacing again. “Who would they possibly assign you to who’d be greater, more unpredictable, more dangerous than me?”

 

“Well, don’t quote me on this, but since _Guardians of the Galaxy_ there’ve been lots of rumours about—”

  
“Don’t even say his name!”

 

Hermione snorted. “Yeah, like I don’t remember what happened last time,” she crossed her arms under her bosom.

 

Loki’s face twisted in anger. He jerked away from her.

 

“No.” His voice was low, dark.

 

“Hmm?” Tiring, Hermione’s eyelids weighed heavily and began to droop. Sweet Merlin, she had to take home an IV drip of whatever this was.

 

“I refuse to acknowledge that you only confront me because it is your job,” he snapped, emphasizing his disdain with the last word.

 

“Loki, you’re acting like I’m breaking up with you. For money.”

 

“Aren’t you?” He stopped, his face paling to marble. “God gods, I am.”

 

Hermione sighed. “It’s not you, it’s me,” she said drily. “But we can still be best nemeses?”

 

“Frenemies?”

 

Hermione wrinkled her nose. “No.” It was far too hipster-ish a term.

  
“I agree,” said Loki quickly, crossing his arms.

 

They looked at each other.

 

“Two weeks?” he asked.

 

“Maybe three.”

 

He weighed it over and over in his mind. His head actually tilted side to side. Hermione swallowed a giggle as the motion made her dizzy and punch-drunk.

 

“And you won’t be out working while you’re recuperating?” His eyes narrowed on her, lips tight.

 

Hermione sighed, letting her eyes close. “I promise I won’t cheat on you by chasing down smaller-scale criminals.”

 

“And I solemnly swear that while I’ll be up to no good, no one will catch me until you’re out. And then even you won’t catch me,” said Loki confidently.

 

“Thank the gods for small favours,” she muttered.

 

He smirked. “Not that small. But impressive.”

 

Unable to help it, Hermione chuckled as she drifted off. “You keep telling yourself that.”

 

“Are you sleeping?”

 

“Not yet,” she mumbled. “Thirsty.”

 

Her glass of water drifted closer, and the straw bumped her nose.

 

“Thanks,” she said.

 

She heard him get up to leave. “See you in two weeks.”

 

“Hmm,” she murmured, wrapping her lips around the straw and taking a sip of her water.

 

Except it was frozen.

 

Hermione’s burning amber eyes opened to slits.

 

“Loki…”

 

He chuckled as he shut the door behind him. Hermione sighed.

 

Now, what was it she’d mentioned to Loki? Ah yes, her plan...

 

* * *

 

 

“Fury?”

 

“Yes, Mr Stark.”

 

“Hey, thrilled to talk with you too on this cheery January day. How’re the wife and kids.”

 

“May I ask why you’re assaulting my good mood with your good for nothing self?”

 

“Somehow, I don’t think you’ve had a good mood since you were taken off your mother’s teat. Also, you probably frowned at her while wearing an eyepatch when you nursed. So, I have this issue, and its getting annoying, and if you wouldn’t mind turning on your _goddamn video feed_ you’d see that I have _an army of Lokis in my lab_.”

 

_Click. Click. Fshwoom_.

 

“So you do.”

 

“Yeah, thanks, I’m almost sure I heard a sympathetic heartbeat in there, but then again you have no heart so it must have been a blip. I’ll check into it later. Can you tell me, sir, why is Loki here?”

 

“Loki, why are you bothering Mr Stark?”

 

“Something to do,” said a Loki. Another Loki nodded. Yet another just shrugged.

 

One Loki, who’d been tinkering with a small, highly technical, very expensive piece of robotry, accidentally snapped it causing a spark. His turned it over. Then threw it over his shoulder, got up and started looking for something else to play with.

 

“Well, there you go. Anything else, Mr Stark?”

 

“Aren’t you going to do anything? Call someone,” said Tony, emphasizing the _someone_. Raising his theatrical eyebrows, even.

 

Fury frowned at him over the video feed. “No. Fury out.”

 

“Tony?” Called Loki as Fury cut the communication. “Do you have a hammer?”

 

“No. Go ask your brother,” said Tony, leaning over his desk, fingers digging into the stainless steel surface. Nick Fury was such a dick.

 

Loki’s voice was light, almost thoughtful. “... Now there’s a thought.”

 

With a small crack behind him, Tony whirled around to find his private laboratory empty of Lokis.

 

...Oops?

 

Tony pulled out his mobile.

 

**_Sorry not sorry,_** he texted Thor.

 

—and promptly turned off the sound and vibration notifications from his phone.

 

* * *

 

 

“Thor,” said Jane, squeezing his hand.

 

“My Jane, this is madness.”

 

She didn’t disagree and grimaced. Lying wouldn’t help anyone. “But it could be... fun.”

 

“Surrendering to his charms could doom us all,” said Thor, head bowed and heavy.

 

Jane squeezed and shook his hand, getting his attention. “I think he’s lonely,” she whispered.

 

“But to come here—,” Thor gestured to the throne room.

 

“He misses his nemesis,” she said against his ear, lips pressing into the thick hair and tickling him.

 

“Is she still in—?”

 

“Yes,” Jane broke in quickly, turning away to smile at Loki for a moment. From down below the raised dais Loki turned to look at her, his hands folded behind his straight back, head high. She smiled again, a bit forced, and lifted a finger to give them just another minute.

 

“Please, Thor? I promise I’ll…” She finished off, whispering in his ear, squeezing his hand until he turned towards her and nuzzled her back. The display turned disgustingly sucrose as the two giggled and nuzzled each other, before a cough from behind reminded them they had company.

 

“Yes?” Jane asked, smiling brightly at Thor.

 

“Yes,” he sighed. He straightened, looking down at his brother.

 

“So, how do you play this Midgardian game?”

 

“It’s called World of Warcraft,” said Loki, pulling a shiny laptop out of his satchel. “We play on these gadget-things.”

 

“Where did you get that?” asked Jane, curious.

 

“Tony Stark.”

 

“Is it already set up?” she asked, clearing some space on Thor’s table nearby. It was monstrously long and could seat three hundred. Or Thor and his warrior friends when they came by for snacks and game night.

 

“Yes, Tony has an account. We will use it.”

 

“That’s really nice of him to lend it to us.”

 

Loki nodded, not missing a beat. “It is.” He pulled another ‘gadget-thing’ from his bag. “You get one, and I get one.”

 

Jane’s brow furrowed. Thor glanced up at her. “He just leant you three top of the line laptops?” she asked.

 

“Here’s his password,” said Loki, setting up the suspicious computers with ease, and booting them up. Not answering Jane’s question, she noticed. “I’m told this is a good ‘server’,” he pointed, as Thor grasped the keypad with his massive, Mjolnir-calloused hands. He tapped the mousepad as gently as he could. There was a teeny cracking noise, but the machine plodded right along.

 

“Oh look! It’s… it’s like a moving picture game,” said Thor, leaning forward to watch the screen. “Oh, look at this, my Jane!” He bounced in his throne and pointed excitedly.

 

Jane bit her lip as she took a deep breath. _It’s good for them_ , she told herself, _it’s good for them…_

 

“We’ll play for a bit,” said Loki. Then his eyes glowed. “Then go on a raid,” he added mercilessly, his smile stretching wider.

 

“I’ll just go… get some snacks, shall I?” said Jane, backing away from them.

 

“Oh, look at all the little creatures! Oh! Oh, that was a nasty little beast, wasn’t it? Well, brother, this is good fun!”

 

“That’s the introductory video. The game hasn’t started yet,” said Loki.

 

“There’s more?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Brilliant!”

 

Loki grit his teeth.

 

(An hour later)

 

“No!” Loki roared, snapping upright in his chair. He’d made it bigger than Thor’s throne, just because. “No! If you rush in there now, we’ll lose everything!”

 

“But it’s clear—”

 

“No, it only looks clear!” seethed Loki, breathing hard. He stretched his head and neck, opening and closing his hands as he looked up at his brother. “It’s a trap.”

 

“Then we’ll strike hard!”

 

Loki’s eyes shot open, and he reached for his brother. “No—!”

 

“Thooooor of Asgaaaard! Fall before my sword!”

 

And Thor’s character rushed into the raid, a creature’s den, sword swinging and trail blazing.

 

...The only good being that it was over quickly, at least.

 

Face falling, Loki could only watch as his brother was cut down by the boss monster he’d been planning on raiding. When the cries and war calls and skirmishing calmed, Loki sat, stunned. Even Thor was slumped forward, subdued.

 

“At least I still have my chicken,” mumbled Thor, downcast.

 

As the screen re-set itself, Thor’s blue eyes lit on a new icon. He clicked on it eagerly, and his entire face brightened.

 

“Jane! Jane, bring more snacks!” he began clicking madly.

 

“What are you doing?” asked Loki.

 

“There’s a new game!”

 

“Thor, honey, I’ve been getting you snacks for the last hour. I think you need to take a break from the computer and… go out and play,” said Jane, dragging another platter heaped high with food onto the end of the table.

 

“What are you playing?” asked Loki, not really interested but trying to overcome his disappointment. He did not like failure. Even if it was a World of Warcraft raid.

 

“More importantly, how do you have WiFi?” asked Jane, squinting at the corner of Thor’s screen.

 

Thor glanced up at Loki from his screen and exclaimed, “Angry Birds!”

 

Loki’s face twisted and darkened as he slowly came to his feet, reaching for his staff.

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione felt her shoulders gain the weight of a small avalanche as the hand holding the tv remote dropped down.

 

_“—the fires continue to rage in north Jakarta, tonight, as a string of unexplained explosions erupted this evening along the waterfront…”_

 

She sighed as she caught sight of a familiar pair of horns dashing over a rooftop, followed by a bolt of lightning.

 

* * *

 

 

“Tony?” called Pepper from the office beside Tony Stark’s lab.

 

“Yes?” He lowered his glass of… he looked at it more closely. Hmm. Well, it was smoky-tasting and forty proof, and that’s what was most important, right? Right.

 

“Director Nick Fury’s upset. He said it’s about Loki. Did you do something?”

 

“No. Also, I’m not here, and I’m busy.”  
  
His brow puckered as he heard the tapping of her approaching high heels. He loved them, normally, but that wasn’t her Flirting Walk. That was her Business Walk. Which he also liked, when he got to watch it from behind. Which reminded him, was it Thursday already, because on Thursdays he loved to—

 

“Tony, he’s standing right here beside me. Tea, Mr Fury?”

 

“Yes, please. Milk, two sugars.”

 

“I’ll be right back. Tony, you have a guest,” she said, striding away.

 

Tony turned then, and looked past Fury with a wounded sigh as she strutted away. Yes, he did love that pair of heels in particular. There was something about that shade of red for Louboutins...

 

“Am I interrupting, Mr Stark?”

 

“As a matter of fact—”

 

Fury snapped his finger beside Tony’s ear, making the inventor jump and grabbing his attention. His glare intensified as he leaned down into Tony’s space. “I don’t care. Suck it up, Iron Femme. Now, what did you do that pissed Loki off so much he went to pick a fight with his brother? Do you know what the rates are for labour in Jakarta at the moment? This kind of reparation work doesn’t come cheap.”

 

“He asked me for a tool I didn’t have, then he took off. I’m not his keeper. Is his girlfriend still not out of prison yet?”

 

“Miss Granger is in hospital recovering from surgery, Mr Stark. She’s not on holiday.” Fury lifted a hand as he paced. “Or incarcerated.” He glowered. “Or his girlfriend.”

 

“Are her benefits paying for her little séjour?”

 

“This is not up for discussion.”

 

“Because when _I_ asked for benefits, you told me I wasn’t insurable. That’s discrimination.”

 

“You modded yourself with spare parts and have a glowing LED for a heart valve.”

 

“I know, it looks amazing at raves.”  
  
“You’re reckless and regularly endanger yourself and society. Your liver is solid with the early stages of cirrhosis and orgasms at the mention of spirits. Your manner is so abrasive you regularly get punched out when you go to bars you don’t own. Even some you do.”

 

“Flatterer. Also, I learned from the best role model ever,” said Tony, rounding his shoulders and fluttering his eyelashes at Fury. “My hero!”

 

Fury punched him in the face.

 

“There was something in your eye. Fixed it for you.”  
  
“You’re a gem, thanks,” groaned Tony, holding his fractured eye socket.

 

“I see you’re still talking,” said Pepper, returning and offering Fury his tea on an art deco saucer and cup set. She smiled warmly at him. “Can I do anything to help?”

 

Fury glowered at Tony.

 

Tony ignored his blatant disappointment, appealing to his better half. “Honey, a bit of help here? Ice?”

 

Pepper grabbed his tumbler, and before he could object, dumped the contents in the garbage, salvaging the ice at the last minute and passing it to him with a smile. “Better?”

 

His lip pouted as he mourned the loss of the mystery booze. “Loads. Why do you like him more than me today?”

 

“She has taste,” quipped Fury.

 

Pepper just smiled and made a hmm-ing sound. “I’ll let you boys have your talk. I’ll be in my office if you need me,” she said.

 

Then she turned and stalked away, heels click-clacking as she went. It made Tony sigh with nostalgia, and he slowly leaned to the side to watch her leave. _Ah, Thursdays…_

 

“Focus, Stark.”

 

Did Fury have to growl like that? It really killed the show.

 

He nearly rolled his eyes. “I am—,” Tony jerked out of the way of Fury’s flying fist. Once burned and all that. His head tilted at a new angle, he decided it was absolutely amazing what those heels did for Pepper’s calves. “You know, there are classes for your condition. They’re called _Anger Management for the Emotionally Constipated_. Or something like that. Want me to look into it for—gah, okay,” he rasped as Fury tightened his fingers around Tony’s throat. He choked on his tongue as Fury squeezed harder.

 

“Listen to me, Stark. Not that sorry excuse for a dick you have plugged into whatever port you’ve installed where your dick should be but never was.”

 

“Listening,” he croaked. “Also, air?”

 

Fury narrowed his visible eye. “Later. Now, I want you to go put on your super suit, fly your pretty rockets to Jakarta, and invite Loki back here for some robo-playtime. He was very pleasant while he was here—”

 

Tony’s hands rose to grab onto Fury’s wrists. Not that he was begging. Yet. “Broke all my stuff, the jerk. Also, air?”

 

“—invite him back to play robot lab. Or super-fun science tech lab party. Or fucking Legos for all I give a damn, Stark,” Fury growled. “Go get him.”

  
“... Aaaaiiiiiiiirrrrrrrr….” croaked Tony, his knees giving out and vision going cloudy.

 

“Say, “Yes sir, Director Fury”.”

 

“...Yes... your mother was a sir, Director Fury.”

 

Fury shook his head, looking down at Tony with disappointment clear in his eye.

 

“How _does_ she put up with you?” He released Tony who fell to the ground, his arms extended to soften the blow.

 

“She likes my ports,” gasped Tony. Air, sweet, fresh, artificially circulated and conditioned air. It was so beautiful.

 

“Well hopefully Loki still likes your parts. Get out of my sight, Stark.”

 

“As soon as my lungs finish inflating again. In the meantime, shall I look up the number for the _Anger Management_ classes? Sir?”

 

“Suck on it, Stark.”

 

“—” He opened his mouth but Fury gave him another level, Fury-ous look.

 

“That means shut your useless, filthy mouth.”

  
Tony just nodded. Mentally he mourned the loss of the Thursday-that-could-have-been. On the positive side, he’d recorded the sound of Pepper’s click-clacking Louboutin heels, so he could put it on a loop and listen to it as he flew to Jakarta. Score.

 

* * *

  
  
 **To be Continued.**


	2. Shooting From Behind Makes You Dishonourable... Or Tony Stark

“Did you have another falling out with your brother?”

 

Loki released his grip on his staff and set it down beside him. “You again?”

 

“Yeah. I found a hammer and came to see if you still needed it.”

 

“I have no need of you pitiful tools. All of Midgard and Asgard tremble before me when I approach, havoc and destruction in my wake!”

 

Tony retracted the face plate on his helmet with a _click-swisssssh_ and surveyed their surroundings as he strolled around, passing inspection. “Yeah. Nice place you got here. Lots of destruction. I mean, the murky pond’s a nice touch. Stalagmites and stalactites are a bit passé, but you could totally bring them back with this retro-villain den, with the right lighting.” His brows furrowed as he rubbed his fingers together; they’d come back wet when he touched the glistening walls. “Charming. Really, this cave is killer. High Park has nothing on your bachelor pad, bro.”

 

Loki leaned forward, and smiled, looking around. With casual ease he fingered the staff he lifted once more. “Why did you say you dropped in again, Asgardian Tin Man.”

 

“Well, it’s Iron Man, not Tin Man—tin is far inferior to iron—but I know you’re looking for something to do, and I just happened to have this lying around and wondered if you’d like it.”

 

Tony pulled the box—adorned with a precious silver bow, courtesy of Pepper, though he liked to imagine it was Director Fury in daywear—from his pack and handed it over to Loki.

 

Of course, Loki had to ruin the moment by opening the card first.

 

“Why is it making… noise… at me?”

 

“It’s wishing you a Merry Cave-mas.”

 

Loki’s stony expression was not impressed. Tony rolled his eyes. “You didn’t give me a lot to work with. It was that, or Slytherin-Impersonation-Day.”

 

“Whatever a Slytherin is, it’s probably better than ‘Cave-mas’.”

 

Tony’s eye twitched as he tilted his head to the side. “Hermione’s never mentioned Slytherins to you?”

 

Untying the ribbon and tossing it to the side, Loki tore the paper from the box. “Not that I recall. Is this a children’s toy?”

 

“It’s a builder’s toy. You’re a builder. You might take things apart a lot—like, for example, New York. Or the Jakarta waterfront. But I know you’re the type who likes to figure out how things work. This gives you the opportunity to do that.”

 

“It says K’Nex, suitable for ages 12-14.”

 

“Look on the back.”

 

Loki flipped the box in his elegant, taper-fingered hands. “And it has a roller coaster.”

 

“ _Glowinthedarktrack_ ,” coughed Tony into his hand.

 

At that, Loki’s eyebrows perked up in interest.

 

* * *

 

 

“—but they’re completely dismissing, or ignoring, the properties of the liverwort leaves! The potion would be far more effective if they were to—” Hermione blushed and bit her lip. Across from her, reclined with his long, scarred fingers crossed over his middle, Severus Snape arched a brow over amused, inky eyes.

 

“Preaching to the choir, I know,” said Hermione, reclining back against her own pillows to catch her breath. “I trust you gave them a good tongue lashing for their defective analysis.”

 

“Turn to page 297,” he replied, a hint of a smirk on his face.

 

“Ah! Oh, this is a good start. Read it to me?”

 

“Certainly not. They’d throw me out for putting you in hysterics.”

 

“But it would be worth it.”

 

“Undoubtedly.”

 

Hermione grinned back at him. “So, outside of enabling new orifices in incompetent dunderheads who call themselves ‘academics’, what have you been up to? I wondered if you’d been drafted to assist with, er, certain individuals while I’ve been indisposed?”

 

“There was an incident recently in New Zealand with a dragon and some misplaced wealth. Charlie Weasley called me in to see if I could separate some of the darker artefacts from the spoils, but I’ve tried to remain as retired as I can.”

 

“You almost made that sound sincere that time, too.”

 

He shook a finger at her. “No, I promised, after the Mongolian Hebride Riders—”

 

“Mmmhmmm. Which then led into, if I recall...”

 

“—the Southern Boxer Neo-Rebellion. Which really was just a front for the—”

 

“Hmmm… Was that the Dolphin-Gobbling Vunder Munks?”

 

Severus paused, his eyes closing to half-slits in thought. “No,” he said slowly, “then it went to some annoying Norse God or other. Got too big for his britches, then the Avengers got involved, which then annoyed the local populace who thought it was a magical event, which they then called me in to sort out. Norse Gods. Can you believe how inconsiderate that dark-haired blighter is that you keep chasing after?”

 

“Hermione? If you have a moment, I brought something to—I see you have company,” said Loki, slowing as he entered the room. Two other Lokis followed close behind, carrying something in a large, sheet-covered box.

 

Loki, Hermione and Severus regarded each other.

 

The moment held. And kept holding, in all its awkward glory.

 

Hermione opened her mouth to invite him in, but Severus beat her to it.

 

“Loki, I presume?” asked Severus silkily. And easily ignored the warning look Hermione shot him.

 

“I’m afraid your reputation doesn’t precede like mine does,” said Loki as he circled the bed.

 

“Do I have you at a disadvantage, then?” Severus’ eyes glinted.

 

“Not at all,” Loki said smoothly.

 

Hermione sighed and fought the urge to roll her eyes.

 

“Gentlemen, you can’t fight in here. This is a war-heroine-recovery room,” she said, crossing her arms over her robed chest.

 

“Perish the thought,” said Severus, his eyes never leaving Loki.

 

“Put it down,” she said, frowning at him.

 

Severus’s hand continued stroking his wand, but released it back into its holster after a moment or two. Just long enough to show he did it because he wanted to, not because Hermione made him.

 

Severus folded his hands in front of him again, this time resting his elbows on the armrests of his chair. “May I ask why you’re visiting the one person who’s successfully managed to incarcerate you at every opportunity that’s presented itself?”

 

“No. You’re welcome to visit the morgue, though. Just follow the lift straight down. You won’t miss it.”

 

Severus’ words closed on a snarl. “So eager to send me there?”

 

Loki leaned back and smiled tightly. “Merely extending an invitation.”

 

“Time out, both of you. Severus, I’m parched. Could you brew me a decent cup of tea in the hospitality area? Please?” she asked, meeting his eyes and pleading. “When you come back, we’ll pick up that discussion on the journal again.”

 

Severus’ eyes flicked to Loki, the main one, who seemed to be examining the small hospital room.

 

“I'll return shortly.”

 

Alone with her best nemesis once more, Hermione flicked her wand to shut the door. While she levitated and enlarged a table closer, Loki availed himself of Severus Snape's newly vacated chair. His duplicates settled the covered package on the laminate surface, and [phased out of existence.

 

“I hear you’ve been busy,” she began. Beside her, Loki unbuttoned his coat and relaxed back. The movement accentuated the breadth of his leanly muscled chest, exposing his leather vest and his fitted shirt. He gave the barest of nods.

 

“What have you brought me?”

 

“Patience, patience,” he purred.

 

Hermione huffed a breath and folded her arms over her chest. With a quick tug here and there she adjusted her robe once more, just to be safe.

 

“Any word yet on your official release date?”

 

“I’m due out in another week.”

 

“I suppose I can entertain myself until then,” he sighed, drawing up a moue of long suffering.

 

Hermione laughed. “So, what prompted Jakarta?”

 

“Hmmmm…. Family discord.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Mmm.”

 

“It had nothing to do with you and Thor getting into a snit over an RPG computer game?”

 

“I know nothing of the sort. And how did you hear about not-that?”

 

Hermione shrugged, glancing up at Loki from beneath her layered fringe. “Word travels.”

 

Loki stared at her for a moment, his face hardening, until he huffed and leaned back again.

 

“Jane.”

 

She didn’t bother denying it. “Girl talk.”

 

“You… engage that way? With other women?”

 

She gestured around her. “As you can see, they aren’t even allowing me much paperwork at this point. I’m hoping I’ll be able to finish recovering at home by tomorrow,” she said, and smoothed her covers over her lap. She missed the avid gleam in Loki’s eyes. “So it is nice to have visitors. Jane and Natasha came by.” She opened her mouth to speak, before licking her bottom lip and reconsidering her words. “I think things are stressful for them. Pepper and Jane text each other a fair bit now that Jane’s travelling around the US for her research. But I think Natasha was a bit… keyed up and needed to get away for a bit. You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you?”

 

Loki glanced up from his fascination with Hermione’s lips and cocked his head minutely.

 

“I’ve been occupied. How is dear Widow?”

 

“Quite looking forward to the next time the two of you can sit down to chat.”

 

His long, raven wing of hair slid forward, not quite hiding his feral grin. “Is she, now?”

 

“What did you do?”

 

“So suspicious,” he tutted.

 

Hermione arched her brow, tightening her crossed arms. “Spit it out.”

 

“Perhaps someone turned her favourite nightie green.”

 

Hermione sighed.

 

“And improved her motorcycle helmet by affixing a pair of horns to it.”

 

She closed her eyes.

 

“And filled her apartment with camel dung and fireworks.”

 

A hand at her mouth, Hermione gasped and couldn't help the widening of her eyes. “You didn’t.”

 

“Oh, not me.” He said. “Personally.”

 

“And you still had time to make… what is under the cover? I remind you, the hospital is considered neutral territory.”

 

“Neutral,” he scoffed, but softly. Leaning forward he stretched his back before standing and approaching the table, his coat swirling around him in a softer billow than she’d expected. His steps were sure and firm, yet after a quick glance at the window into the hallway, his heels did not hit the floor with their usual decisive clack and snap.

 

His energy leashed, he turned bright eyes on Hermione and showed brilliant white teeth in a flashing grin. Lowering her arms and sinking her nails into the thin bed sheets as Loki tore off the cover from his display, Hermione cast a nonverbal _protego_. Not that she didn’t trust Loki, but they were best nemeses for a reason.

 

“Behold!”

 

Biting down hard on her tongue, Hermione braced herself and—

 

Her gasp burst from her lips, surprising herself.

 

“Do you like it?” he asked, watching her avidly from the corner of his eye.

 

“Like it?” she asked, leaning forward, eyes bright and shining. She scooted carefully, but winced where her stitches pulled; and was surprised when she felt strong, gentle hands lift her closer, supported by a firm, cool chest.

 

Her fingers loosened from the sheets, she found herself grasping at the folds of his leather mantle. It was much softer than she had anticipated.

 

He adjusted his grip on her slightly, lifting her so she could get a better look at the table’s contents.

 

“Where did you get this?”

 

“Do you like it?”

 

She reached out to touch one of the stick tracks, felt the ripple and flex of muscle against her side as Loki leaned forward to bring her closer to the massive K’Nex structure. Hermione's eyes brightened and she smiled as she ran her fingers over and across the plastic beams.

 

"Did you build it? "

 

The chest she rested against puffed up the faintest bit, providing her answer.

 

"Where did you get the idea to build a Hogwarts. .. with a roller coaster?”

 

"Would you like to see how it works? "

 

And suddenly she found herself miniaturized and belted into the first car of the roller coaster sitting atop Gryffindor Tower. All of Hogsmead and the Forbidden Forest spread out beneath them.

 

“You know I’m not allowed much movement, yet,” she said, scooching to the side and craning her neck to look over. “Is this real or is it another illusion?”

 

From his seat beside her, Loki stretched his arms up and behind her. Spreading his feet on the ground until their thighs pressed against each other, his elegantly tapered fingers came to rest around her shoulder, giving her a faint caress.

 

“You’ll find out. When you’re not as damaged.”

 

She turned to him, and was surprised by how close he was. Fairly leaning over her, he eyed her mouth. “Ready when you are.”

 

Hermione’s mouth went dry. “N-not quite ready yet, then.”

 

His eyes flicked up to meet hers a moment, holding them in a hungry gaze. “Of course not. We want you willing and enthusiastic. You’ll enjoy it more.”

 

With her heart in her throat, Hermione swallowed the urge to pant. “Enjoy what?”

 

His mouth twitched as he dropped his gaze to her lips again. “The ride, darling. What else?”

 

From beneath them Hermione felt the stir and rumble of metal-against-metal friction, the gentlest creak as their roller coaster car inched forward towards the track plunging _down, down, down._

 

Without thinking she grabbed Loki’s hand. “I can’t go down yet.”

 

Her stomach began rising once more as the cart tipped forward, her heart jack-hammering in her chest as the hair rose in warning at the back of her neck—

 

“Loki, I said I can’t go down—” she cried, her voice giving away her anxiety.

 

“Miss Granger!” a voice thundered, breaking the illusion.

 

“Severus!”

 

Hermione blinked and looked up from the hospital bed… the hospital bed where she lay stretched out on her back, Loki alongside her, her head propped up on his shoulder and his murderous gaze fixed on the intruder at the door.

 

“What happened?” she asked, confused. “So it was an illusion?”

 

“It won’t be next time,” whispered cool lips against her ear. With that he was gone.

 

Hermione’s breath rushed out in a heavy _whoosh_.

 

“Tea?” asked Severus, his voice dripping acid.

 

“Yes, thank you,” she replied weakly. With his help she sat up again and relaxed against the pillows, pushing her hair from her flushed face.

 

“Do you require anything stronger?”

 

She considered Loki. “Yes,” she agreed, and Severus tapped the teapot once with his wand.

 

“Better make it a double,” she added, flushing.

 

Giving her a withering glare, he obliged her.

 

* * *

 

**To be Continued**


	3. Prepare for Unforseen Consequences

Pepper relaxed on the couch, her arm propped up on the headrest and holding a glass of wine. Across from her, Natasha leaned forward, her elbows on her knees as she stared hard at the polished oak coffee table. A healthy splash of bourbon sat in a tumbler before her, the ice clinking occasionally as it shifted.

 

“He’s visiting her. Frequently.” Pepper swirled her wine in her glass.

 

“How is no one making an effort to apprehend him?”

 

Pepper shrugged. “I know Tony’s on Loki-sitting duty every few days. He said he’s going to need a new K’Nex supplier soon, or he may need to move on to Lego. I told him the catalog’s in the drawer in his desk, but he doesn’t want Loki going looking through his Inner Lego Sanctum.”

 

Pulling a face, Natasha looked up at Pepper. _“Inner Lego Sanctum?”_ she mouthed, and Pepper nodded, her smile tight.

 

“Oh yes. LEDs and little motors and all kinds of things. I’m not allowed in.”

 

Natasha took a slug of bourbon. “I don’t know how you put up with that man-child.”

 

Pepper laughed lowly. “I don’t know how you don’t. Take out your stress on men. A man. Anyone.”

 

“Too. Much. Trouble.” She lifted her glass again, her face darkening. “And that’s what enemies are for.

 

“But really, why is he not just kidnapping her if he wants her so badly? It’s never stopped him before.”

 

Pepper shrugged a shoulder, gazing at the ceiling.

 

“He’s been showing a lot of restraint around Hermione, hasn’t he? For him, I mean. He’s not very good with dealing with people without manipulating them. I think he’s figuring out, maybe, that it’s more than a hunter-prey chase between them, behind it all. But if it isn’t a hunter-prey chase, he doesn’t understand what kind of relationship it is. Boy’s a little confused, methinks. And he doesn’t know what to do with himself, I think, when he physically can’t manipulate her or goad her into fighting with him.”

 

Natasha snorted. “That’s not exactly what Severus said.”

 

“‘Severus’?” Pepper’s eyes lit up and she focused on Natasha.

 

“Don’t draw more from that than I meant.”

 

Pepper pouted and smirked. It was a bit disconcerting for Natasha.

 

“Anyway, Loki’s been putting the moves on Hermione. In the hospital. In her bed.”

 

Her strawberry blond brows drawing together, Pepper set her glass down on the table. “Was Hermione okay?”

 

“A bit dazed and confused, but unharmed, according to—” Natasha glowered at the suddenly eager look on Pepper’s face—”my source.” Natasha ignored Pepper’s snicker.

 

The women were quiet a moment, deep in thought.

 

Then Pepper nodded to herself and gave a small, “Hmmm…”

 

“I don’t like the look on your face,” said Natasha, her grip clenching on her tumbler.

 

“No, Tony hates it, too. Something about it unsettling him,” agreed Pepper. She was blissfully unrepentant.

 

* * *

 

 

Loki’s eyes flickered between Pepper, Natasha and Tony.

 

“A _Welcome Back, Visitor_ Party? For me? You shouldn’t have.”

 

“It was their idea. I said you’d be happy with beer and a stripper,” said Tony. “Ow,” he muttered, as Natasha elbowed him. Somehow her arms remained crossed over her chest, though. Damn, the freaky woman was quick. ”Or maybe that was just me.”

 

He stepped a little to the side, hopefully just out of reach.

 

Loki remained where he was, observing them. Tony sighed.

 

“Why are you targeting Hermione?” asked Pepper. Her tone was light and curious. “You do know you have sick legions of fangirls, and fanboys, who’d love to be your frozen little Asgardian love-slave, right?”

 

“I’m not targeting her. Are you jealous? Would you like more of my attention, perhaps, Widow?” He smirked, turning to the redhead. “Your new helmet isn’t quite as fetching as your old one, by the way.”

 

“Keep your hands to yourself, away from my gear. And out of my underwear drawer,” said Natasha.

 

He leaned forward on his staff, hopping lightly to land before them. “What is this really about?”

 

Pepper poked Tony in the side, making him yelp.

 

“Ah, yeah, see, about that—would you stop poking me? I’m not a piece of meat. Unless you want me to be, in which case, Thursday, heels, Louboutins? You, me, a nice bottle of—ow! Okay!” He shimmied away from Pepper’s pinch and straight into Natasha’s awaiting Elbow of Death. With a sigh, he reached out and slung an arm around Loki’s shoulder, bro-style.

 

“Honestly, they’re miserable busy-bodies who are unfailingly female and need to know everybody’s business,” he said in a rush, steering Loki away from the territorial women. “To put it in more genteel terms, they want to know what your intentions are towards their girlfriend. No, not that kind of girlfriend. I know, it’s soul-destroying. Don’t even let that light in your eyes brighten. I even asked if they’d consider it, once, and I didn’t wake up for a few days. I never got the full story of who got me, either. Just trust me when I say that it is easier to just answer them and get it over with.”

 

“You make no sense.”

 

“You’d fit in well with them,” said Tony, voice sage. “They say the same thing to me all the time.

 

“But what I’m saying is, they want to know if you’re playing Hermione, or if you truly like her. Like, the important ‘like’, not like, sort-of endure her like… You know what, go talk to Snape. He can be very, very clear about things like this and he knows Hermione really well. For a man who’s supposedly old enough to be her dad, he looks out for her a lot more like a… Hmm. Never mind that train of thought, it’s really uncomfortable. And I’d hate to be the only one suffering this much awkward bro-mance over your romance when that old fart deserves some of your time, too.”

 

“Tony…”

 

“Don’t make things worse, Stark,” barked Natasha, cocking her hip and sliding out the heel on her boot in a ready-stance.

 

Loki frowned. “They nag an awful lot.”

 

“You have no idea.” Tony rolled his eyes.

 

Pepper cleared her throat pointedly.

 

Tony leaned forward and spoke while barely moving his lips. “Do me a favour. Nod and shoot out of here like a bat out of Hell, and don’t mess up Hermione. That’s all. That’s it. And then we can all get back to how awesome my Thursdays normally are.”

 

Loki’s grip on his staff tensed. “You still make no sense.”

 

“I’m fine with that. But take Widow with you. Remember, Hermione’s not a toy.”

 

“I don’t take well to orders, Tin Man,” said Loki, drawing away from Tony and lifting his staff.

 

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” agreed Tony, giving him a manly slap on the back. “See you tomorrow for Builder Workshop?”

 

Loki gave a subtle nod to Tony’s whispered query.

 

“Adieu. It’s been a pleasure to be in my presence,” said Loki, smirking at Natasha. She glared at him. He turned her hair green and disappeared on a laugh.

 

Pepper rushed off to find more bourbon but Natasha had already grabbed her (now horned again) motorcycle helmet and gloves and stormed out the door. She may have been muttering deprecations upon Loki’s parentage, but there were more important things to worry about, in Tony’s opinion.

 

Ignoring the drama, he leaned around Natasha’s parting stride to peek at Pepper’s disappearing shoes, fingers crossed.

 

_Come on, come on, please be Louboutins._

 

_Please be Louboutins._

 

_Please be…_

 

A flash of red sent his pulse rocketing.

 

_...Yes!_

 

He winced in sweet surrender, letting out a happy sigh.

 

So fixated on her legs was he that he missed the knowing smirk Pepper wore as she turned on her beloved heel with an extra bounce in her step.

 

* * *

  
  


“Why” (pant) “are” (pant) “you” (pantpant) “stopping” (pant) “here?”

 

From his reclined position atop Lady Liberty’s nose, Loki, eyes closed, turned his head towards a sweaty, dishevelled femme fatale. She adjusted her grip on her rappelling line, hanging from the wrought iron, steel, and copper crown above. Her glare was fierce enough to melt stone. He rested his hands on his stomach, happy as a clam in the warm sun.

 

“Oh, hello Widow. Lovely weather, isn’t it?”

 

“Why did you drag me all over the city in your stupid wild good chase?”

 

“Why did you follow?”

 

“I don’t trust Tony, and I trust you even less. Whatever bromance stupidity you two are brewing, I don’t want to end up on clean-up duty. Do we have an agreement?”

 

“I don’t have the foggiest idea what you’re talking about.” He didn’t bother looking at her. “Also, what is a bromance?”

 

“It’s where…” She faltered, glowering at him. “Fuck you.”

 

He smiled.

 

“Why did Tony want us alone?” he asked.

 

“He’s messed in the head.”

 

“I don’t disagree,” he said amiably. “However, the fact remains he thought we should have some kind of discussion.”

 

“No, I’m pretty sure he just wanted to make a move on Pepper. It’s Louboutin Thursday,” explained Natasha, voice tired.

 

“What’s a Louboutin?”

 

She glared at him. “Google it.”

 

He tapped his fingers on his belly in acknowledgement.

 

They were silent a moment, and Natasha took the opportunity to look out over the city as the sun began to set. If she were sentimental, she would perhaps find it beautiful. Instead, she wondered how she would explain to Director Fury that she had accidentally commandeered a garbage barge in the name of Official Avengers Business to chase after Loki. And accidentally sunk it in the Hudson, partially blocking the Old Ferry Dock. Oops. Hmm.

 

“This is about Hermione.” Loki’s calm voice broke through her reverie.

 

“That’s what everyone seems to think,” she sighed. With a narrow-eyed look at the reclined Norse god she eased herself down the last foot or so to rest on the apple of Liberty’s cheek. Thank the gods she’d packed her spare abseiling harness in her purse that morning, but it was rode like a bitch.

 

“Do you all really think so poorly of her?”

 

“What?”

 

“Hermione. She’s stronger than you all realize. Far more cunning. Brave. Intelligent.”

 

“Please stop. I don’t want to hear any of this.”

 

“But you need to,” said Loki, finally peeling his eyes open just enough to catch Natasha’s gaze. “She isn’t made of glass.”

 

“Doesn’t mean you won’t try to break her.”

 

He nodded. “True.”

 

“Ugh! This. This _attitude_ of yours that everyone is here for your amusement, for you to push around and own and steam roll over. That is why we don’t want you near Hermione.”

 

“Valid.” He leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. He closed his eyes again.

 

Natasha leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

 

“You aren’t going to stop, are you?”

 

He gave no indication he heard her.

 

She looked at him another moment, realization dawning.

 

“She’s playing you.”

 

“No.”

 

“Yes,” insisted Natasha. “She is out of commission, and somehow she has you out of commission. She has you hanging out with her friends, staying out of trouble—for you—and doting on her.” Natasha stared off into the distance. “She’s more cunning than I realized.”

 

“Took you long enough.”

 

“Go gargle crushed glass, Loki.”

  
He chuckled.

 

* * *

  


**To be Continued**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: One more chapter to go!  
> AN2: Note: This has a T-rating. For an M-rating (sequel or follow-up), there’d need to be a demand for it. For now, enjoy the sandbox. ;)


	4. But our Princess is in Another Castle!

 

  


When Hermione woke the first thing she noticed was the Hogwarts-castle-slash-roller-coaster had disappeared, replaced with a note that read she’d see it again soon. The next thing she noticed were her bags, packed beside her, and a fresh outfit laid out upon her visitor chair. Thirdly was the handsome, dark-haired Norse god sitting sideways in the chair, her clothes folded in his lap as he tapped her brassiere with a finger every so often, changing the colour or material before settling on a lovely black lace confection that had no business revealing itself to all and sundry in a hospital recovery ward.

 

“Unhand my unmentionables,” she mumbled, shifting and gingerly sitting up.

 

“Once I can get them to match,” he replied, his tone bored. Yet his brow was furrowed and he kept staring at the bra, eyes hazy. Unbeknownst to him, his lips parted just a little bit, and his breathing panted the barest bit more heavily.

 

Hermione reached for her wand with deliberate movements.

 

“This’ll have to do,” he sighed, setting the neatly folded pile on the edge of her bed.

 

“You’ve been busy,” she said, looking over her bags.

 

“You’re to be cleared today. You can recover at home.”

 

“Recover, yes,” she said, giving him a pointed look he ignored.

 

“I can be very helpful.”

 

“Keep your clones to yourself. If I catch any of them near my undergarments I’ll bury you in concrete and sink you in the Channel.”

 

“I was merely going to offer my services as a personal support worker.”

 

“You don’t know what a PSW is.”

 

“Yes, I do.” He held up a certificate. “I have a certificate.”

 

Summoning the paper to her, she glanced at it.

 

“This says you disemboweled a CPR dummy.”

 

“Under duress. It looked at me funny.”

 

“And then burned its corpse inside a gibbet, proclaiming it a warning to all that piracy wasn’t tolerated in Switzerland.”

 

“Bellatrix dared me, that time.”

 

Hermione’s jaw hardened.

 

Without another word she incinerated the certificate.

 

“You may go.”

 

She collected her clothes and shuffled to the bathroom, closing the door with a click.

 

“Granger?” he called. He glanced over at the bathroom door, but no sound escaped.

 

“Hermione?”

 

Brow furrowed, he twisted in his seat to stand. He crossed the room and lifted his hand, knocking on the bathroom door.

 

“Hermione?”

 

There was no answer.

 

He knocked harder, calling her name with more force—certainly not concern—until he heard a tell-tale crack.

 

Spinning on his heel he saw that her bags behind him had disappeared.

 

She was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione huffed and glared into her teacup.

 

Across from her Nick Fury leaned over his knees, contemplating the situation.

 

"I don’t disagree. I think it is a worthwhile course of action. "

 

Hermione’s shoulders tightened.

 

"But," she prodded.

 

"Not to question your decision but is this really what you want, Miss Granger? And how you want it?"  

 

"Absolutely."

 

Nick nodded once and stood. Hermione shook his hand, her grip firm.

 

"Let us know what you need."

 

"Sir." She nodded.

 

"Miss Granger? " He turned to give her a long measuring look.

 

Pressing her lips together so tightly they paled, she met his gaze.

 

“Thank you for your contributions to the Avengers. You’re a remarkable soldier, and we’re pleased and honoured to have worked with you.”

 

“One last mission,” she said, forcing strength into her voice.

 

“Only if you want it to be,” said Fury, giving her a final nod as he let himself out.

 

Sinking back into her couch, Hermione’s normally well-ordered mind fell apart as she struggled to determine what it was she wanted, logically, as opposed to what she needed, emotionally. The conflict had been driving her mad for the last year, and hit a personal low that morning in the hospital.

 

Exhausted, she gingerly lay down and pulled a blanket down overtop of herself.

 

* * *

  
  
Jane swallowed a grimace as she opened her apartment door to the last person she expected to see there. Ever.

 

She pasted on a smile. “Hi… Loki. What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

 

“There are no woods here. This is a city,” he said, his piercing ocean eyes scanning the interior quickly and efficiently. “My brother isn’t here?”

 

“No. He’s out. Something about visiting a pet store and finding a new steed. If you want, I can scream real loud and I’m sure he’ll burst through the window. Or wall. Or something?”

 

He waved his hand dismissively before stepping through the door and inviting himself in.

 

Nodding to herself and rolling her eyes to the ceiling in prayer that her apartment survive this visit intact, please, because she’d only just gotten her security deposit back and she really, really needed it for her research. Jane closed the door and followed Loki in. “Tea? Coffee? I may have some soda in the pantry.”

 

He shook his head. Spreading his flapping coat around behind him he sat down on her worn couch, the springs creaking and poking at him. His brow quirked. He set aside his staff and patted the lumpy cushions curiously.

 

“You no longer live in the transient bus.”

 

Her smile tightened before she forced an exhale out between her teeth. “Mobile home and research station,” she bit out. “No. It was confiscated. In its entirety. Remember New Mexico?” _Smile. Smile, damnit._ Her cheeks hurt. “I’m here on a research team with the… well, one of the universities,” she explained, taking a seat across from him. But still close to the door. Just sayin’.

 

His eyes flickered around again, settling on the decorative mantle littered with photographs. His focus absorbed, Jane observed him a moment longer. His eyes were reddened, his face drawn, his shoulders tight, especially for him. His entire body faced the photographs… particularly the ones on the left.

 

No, one in particular, she realized.

 

Unsure if she could relax in his presence, but at least having a fair suspicion of why he was so duly focused, Jane eased herself back in her seat and curled her feet under her, getting comfortable. She reached for the glass of water she’d been drinking earlier, abandoned on the second-hand coffee table.

 

“H-how are you doing?” she asked, swallowing, her throat parched.

 

“I have questions,” he said.

 

She nodded. “I’m good at figuring things out.”

 

He flickered a glance at her. “Yes, I know.”

 

Forcing her speeding heart rate to slow—he can smell fear. Relax. He’s here for a reason. He needs you—Jane shifted a bit and rested her weight on the arm of the couch.

 

“What can I help you with?”

 

His jaw worked. He looked away, smiled viciously a moment, before he shook his head and licked his lips, staring at the floor.

 

“Is it true that Hermione is leaving the Avengers?”

 

 

Knowing better than to shrug off a serious, direct inquiry from Loki, Jane fidgeted with the glass in her hands, lowering it to her lap.

 

“I’m not an official Avenger, so I only hear rumours,” she said, giving him a half smile that quickly faded. Her shoulder drooped. “But yeah. I hear she and Fury had a chat when she was released, and he’s putting feelers out to find someone to replace her. Her friend Snape’s been contacted, along with one or two others. I’m not sure of all the details, though. Or the timeline. Just that…” She bit her tongue. Ooooh, she could get in trouble for this. Her brow furrowed and she took a gulp of water. Too fast. Her eyes watered as she tried to quietly choke it down.

 

“Just that what?” he asked, his voice velvet soft and smooth. Deadly quiet.

 

“Uhhhh…..” Cursing herself a hundred times, Jane’s slim fingers tightened on the glass. Loki looked at her from the corner of his eye, but she had his full attention. Fear shivered between her shoulder blades once more.

 

“I know she talks to you. About… matters,” he said, still soft, but tight.

 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

 

Jane exhaled slowly, swallowing, and nodded. Don’t lie.

 

“She was upset. She has decided to focus on more stable career goals,” said Jane, hedging around the elephant in the room. The very dangerous, bihorned, unpredictable elephant. On her couch.

 

“She had a fairly stable means of income,” he disagreed. His long, nimble fingers flexed and stretched on his thighs.

 

“She said something about research, if that helps,” added Jane. Keep it vague.

 

“No longer working in the field at all?” Loki turned to her in surprise.

 

Jane nodded.

 

“She loves field work,” muttered Loki, staring at the floor once more.

 

Risking a small shrug, her shoulders remaining up around her ears—subconsciously protecting her neck—Jane tightened into a smaller ball. “She said she was looking for a change. That…” She bit her tongue. Damnit!

 

“That what?”

 

Ooooh, those were the scary eyes. Not hard, but focused entirely on her.

 

How Hermione had put up with those flinty orbs for so long, seemingly searching them out, Jane would never know. She must have had an insane death wish to have courted Loki’s attentions so long.

 

“That. What.” Loki’s eyes bore into hers, and Jane swallowed, her fingers digging into her jean-clad legs.

 

Pressing herself into the back of her seat, Jane shrank further as Loki loomed forward.

 

“She,” Jane’s voice wavered. “She said that things were too…”

 

Loki’s feet shifted, and his grip tightened on his staff as he reached his body forward, preparing to stand.

 

“—personal. She said things at work were too personal and she needed a change.”

 

Trembling now, panting as quietly as she could as she desperately sought oxygen, Jane watched Loki slowly rise and falter mid-way at her words.

 

But Loki’s eyes were focused on something behind her, something distant. There was nothing behind her but a blank wall. Oh.

 

After a moment he straightened, set his shoulders, and clutched his staff closer.

 

“I see.”

 

He took a step and Jane swallowed a whimper.

 

Noticing her seemingly for the first time, Loki slowed and looked down at her properly.

 

“I am not here to hurt you, Jane,” he said.

 

“G-glad to hear it,” she said, higher pitched than she’d intended.

 

He gave her a quirk of a smile. An honest one.

 

He shook his head as the faint curl of his lips faded. Probably wondering what his brother had been thinking when he took up with such a weak Asgardian, she mused.

 

“Did she say anything else?” he asked, his voice gentle.

 

Peeking up at him again, Jane bit her lip. “Um, she… she mentioned something that you said. About Bellatrix.”

 

Loki’s pupils narrowed.

 

“I’m… I’m not sure if you know the history between Bellatrix and Hermione?”

 

“Explain,” he ordered.

 

Jane swallowed, poking her head up a bit. “Well, during the Second Wizarding War, Hermione got a few over on Bellatrix. Hermione was a teenager at that point, and with Bellatrix being a cunning psycho murderess, she didn’t take well to being one-upped by a kid, and a… what’s that word they use?”  
  
“Muggle-born,” said Loki.

 

Her brow furrowed. “Sort of.” She tilted her head. “I thought it was slightly different, though. THey had a bad name for it—”

 

“Muggle. Born.” Stated Loki, his voice harsh.

 

Jane nodded quickly. “Yes. Anyway, I’m not sure if you’ve ever noticed Hermione’s arms? And her throat?”

 

Covered. She was always covered, he realized.

 

“Bellatrix kind of… tortured Hermione. Pretty badly. Other Death Eaters took shots at her, and she has those scars, from battles,” Jane said, and a faint note of pride entered her voice. “She actually isn’t too self-conscious about those. Something about badges of honour. But the torture scars she’s a bit sensitive about. And Bellatrix. I know she’s supposedly dead now, but for a while in the craziness after the war when you showed up on the scene and she was helping round up rogue Death Eaters, I know she and Bellatrix had a bit of a mortal hatred for each other.”

 

“Hermione doesn’t hate.”

 

Jane looked into Loki’s eyes, and held them. “She hated Bellatrix.”

 

Loki eventually straightened again, and Jane’s back and shoulders relaxed, her legs stretching minutely.

 

“I see.”

 

Unsure if she could get up yet, she waited Loki out, watching him.

 

“Thank you, Jane.”

 

“You’re welcome. Anytime,” she said, praying the interlude was nearly over.

 

His eyes flicked back to hers a moment, that hint of a smile surfacing for a moment before disappearing once again.

 

“Tell my brother I said ‘Hello’,” he said, striding to the door.

 

“Absolutely. You uh, have a great afternoon,” she called lifting her glass to him with a hand that only trembled slightly she was proud to note.

 

He nodded and left.

 

Her head falling back against the couch once more, Jane let out a long breath.

 

“I’m alive. I’m alive.”

 

She giggled a bit to herself, hysteria passing quickly. “Whoooo….”

 

Deciding she could use a walk, she stood—and sighed.

 

“Of course I spilled my water all over my pants and look like I wet myself,” she muttered, her hand patting uselessly at her sodden jeans. She hadn’t even noticed at the time, she’d been so terrified.

 

“My Jane! Are you alright?” Thor appeared from the balcony in a crack, and took in her dishevelled appearance. “You… you need a personal moment, I think,” he said, looking elsewhere as gentlemanly as he could.

 

“Your brother came to visit. He says ‘Hi’,” sighed Jane, heading down the hall to her room.

 

“Ah. Yes, that would definitely explain it. Don’t worry, it happens to many! It’s a natural reaction!” He called after her.

 

“Argh!” she couldn’t help but exclaim in disgust.

 

* * *

 

 

Severus ignored the tap on his laboratory door.

 

“I know you’re in there,” said a somewhat familiar voice.

 

He ignored it some more, until the visitor kicked down the ironwood doors.

 

With a soft breath from his patrician nose, he continued working. “You’re replacing that.”

 

“Bill it to Fury,” said Natasha, striding closer. “Is it true?” She demanded.

 

“Many things are true, in one form or another. I suspect you’re referring to a rumour of some sort.”

 

She planted her hands on her hips, widening her stance. “Hermione. Is it true she’s leaving the Avengers and coming to work for you?”

 

“The offer has been extended for some time. There was no end date by which Miss Granger had to accept.”

 

“But she’s really quitting the field?”

 

Severus continued stirring.

 

“Does this have to do with Loki?”

 

Stir, stir, stir.

 

“Is she avoiding him? Afraid of him? Or afraid of herself?”

 

“Careful, Miss Romanov,” he warned, his voice velvet and smooth. “That is my former student you speak of, and she is a Gryffindor and a well-regarded war heroine. Few have ever demonstrated the bravery and courage of her house, Gryffindor, more than she. She has never given up on anything.”

 

Stir, stir, stir.

 

“Or anyone,” he added, glancing at her through the curtain of raven hair that swung forward to hide his expression from her.

 

“Quitting certainly sounds like running away.”

 

“To you, perhaps. Sometimes it is a way of getting a different perspective. Or looking at a problem from another vantage point. From atop a different hill, for example,” he said meaningfully.

 

“She’s not just a colleague, Severus,” admitted Natasha, shifting her feet. “It isn’t like her to walk away from something.”

 

He nodded.

 

“You know more than you’re letting on, don’t you.” Her eyes narrowed at him.

 

“Faith, Miss Romanov. Hermione has had hers broken and is reevaluating some of her priorities and values. She has a plan, she will stick to it. How she chooses to carry it out is up to her.”

 

“You’re not worried about her?”

 

His hand faltered in its stirring for a split-second; if she hadn’t been watching him so carefully she never would have caught it. But she did. She seized on it and stepped forward.

 

He put a hand up to stay her.

 

“I believe she will overcome whatever is challenging her,” he said. “Do you require anything else?”

 

“Got anything in here that’ll neutre a Jotunheim god?”

 

Severus chuckled.

 

* * *

 

 

Bruce Banner lifted his tankard as Severus joined him at the tavern.

 

“You look like you had as great a day as I did,” said Bruce, lifting a finger to get the bartender’s eye.

 

“The women are rising,” drawled Severus, nodding at the bartender as he accepted his pint.

 

“I heard. I had to put Pepper’s number on redirect. She wanted me to come up with some kind of nuclear-powered penis-withering ray guns for her and Widow,” said Bruce, shaking his head.

 

Severus snorted at that, behind his tankard.

 

“And Stark wouldn’t supply her?”

 

“Probably worried she’d turn them on him at some point,” laughed Bruce, and Severus’s lips twitched.

 

“I hear Stark and Loki are bros now. Something about a Lego Master Builders Club Team or something. Pepper was pretty worked up and… uh… really worked up.”

 

Severus nodded. “Natasha asked for something along the same lines earlier.”

 

Bruce winced, and adjusted himself in his seat, his legs drawing closer together.

 

“So, do we get involved?” asked Bruce, reaching for some peanuts from the basket the waitress had placed in front of them.

 

“Has Miss Granger been in contact with you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Loki?”

 

“No.”

 

Severus shook his head, and lifted his brew to his thin lips. “Then you do not get involved.”

 

“Have either of them been in contact with you?”

 

His shoulders drooping, Severus nodded and swallowed. “Yes.”

 

Bruce reached over and patted him on his broad, black-cloaked back.

 

“Good luck with that.”

 

Severus snorted.

 

* * *

  
  
“You’re sure this,” Hermione pointed, “Is our sticking point?”

 

Jane bit her bottom lip as she looked over her notes, then back at the plans. “So far, yes. I’m still looking into it, though.”

 

Hermione nodded. “I had wondered about it, too. It’s nice to bounce ideas off someone who has more than half a brain.”

 

Jane grinned at her. “That’s why I get paid the big bucks. Or, well, apply for grants for them. So many grants…”

 

Hermione smiled back at her. “Let me know who you’re sending them to.”

 

Jane’s eyes widened. “Oh, I couldn’t—it wouldn’t be ethical—”

 

Hermione snorted softly. “You aren’t building a super-weapon. And I worked hard to get where I am today. More people than you realize want to help, they just don’t know how. Money, for this, shouldn’t be a concern.”

 

Tears nearly filled Jane’s eyes. “But it can’t be a habit. This is a special project.”

 

Hermione’s smile dipped, her face sagging as she nodded. “It is.”

 

Jane bit her lip. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

 

“Think nothing of it,” said Hermione, smiling tightly. “Now, I think we should go rescue Maria from Pepper and Natasha. They’re designing Charlie’s Angels’ styled uniforms over there and we need to stop them pre-planning alibis.”

 

“I’m telling you, we can totally fit in some spinal armour in the back and maintain the flexibility!”

 

“We need it to stay light and malleable!”

 

“Leather and kevlar are! We just need to… run around in them a bit to make sure they’re properly form-fitted, first!”

 

“Carbon for the spinal protection,” said Maria, dark brows furrowed as she reviewed the patterns—or highly technical blueprints, going by the schematics assigned each piece—she held. “Individual plates, with interlocking teeth; it’ll give us the flexibility we want, and the protection we need.”

 

“I told you she was an asset,” said Pepper, sitting up primly and crossing one leg over the other. She took a healthy slug of wine from her glass, and then topped it up again.

 

“She still hasn’t agreed to help.” Natasha bent over the design in Maria’s hands then frowned at the screen she was working on.

 

Maria’s frustrated sigh was audible as she fell back against the couch, handing the design to Natasha once more. “I’m telling you, I’m not qualified to bring down Loki. Defend against him is one thing; Hermione’s the only one I’ve ever seen successfully snare him and keep him for any length of time.”

 

“Oh, she’s the bait, don’t worry,” said Natasha, typing something into the laptop that sat on the table amid the three bottles of wine and twice as many glasses. “He’s not getting away this time.”

 

“Ladies, I’m touched you’re so protective of me,” said Hermione. Really, she was. It was just these were some of the most dangerous women on the planet—and possibly other realms—and they were treating this not-quite-heartbreak-dumping-thing as if it were a suicide-level vengeant mission. Which… Hmm….. “But I’m fine. I’m just leaving the field. I’m moving on. I’ll still be around for girls nights.” She looked at her glass of pumpkin juice. “Well, when I’m recovered. And when I’m visiting from the UK.”

 

Maria, Pepper and Natasha paused in their planning to stare at her.

 

“You’re moving back to the UK?” asked Jane. Her wide eyes met Hermione’s, full of hurt.

 

Shrugging uncomfortably, Hermione nodded. “Severus has been planning to move back for a while, and he’s been keeping a position open for me.” She shrugged again, one-shouldered. “It makes sense. I’ll still be around for consultation purposes.” She smiled at them. “It’s just… girls nights might need a bit of notice. And planning.” She thought about it a second. “But on the positive side, I’ll have access to elf-made wine again,” she promised. “And you could all come visit me! We could all go sightseeing… and not be chasing criminals or destroying as much property. Director Fury might even agree to a group holiday, once this part is done.”

 

“That is a bonus,” said Jane weakly, her smile forced.

 

But there came the sound of tight leather creaking from the couch. “Severus is leaving?” asked Natasha, her voice clenched and low.

 

_Oops…_

 

Hermione bit her lips together and swallowed. “It’s something that’s been on the table for a while. No plans are set in stone.” Yet.

 

Natasha whirled around to face Maria and Pepper. She pointed at another set of schematics. “This’ll hold Earthly magical beings, not just Midgard and Jotunheim-ey ones, right?”

 

“Theoretically,” said Pepper. “Jane?”

 

“Theoretically…” said Jane, her eyes flickering between Hermione and Natasha.

 

“Good.” Natasha grabbed one of the wine glasses from the table and drained it before slamming it down on the tabletop. “Refill,” she ordered, and Pepper obliged, cheerfully topping it off.

 

* * *

 

 

_(A few hours later)_

 

“I don’t think we should be doing this tonight, per se,” said Hermione.

 

“Whaddya mean?” Slurred Natasha, leaning against Pepper.

 

“Oh, call it feminine intuition,” said Jane, rubbing her arms in the chilly night air.

 

“‘Mione dussent b’lieve innat,” pointed out Pepper, staggering slightly under Natasha’s well-muscled frame. “Did anyone see where’d ahput m’wine?”

 

“You’re holding it,” deadpanned Maria, arms crossed.

 

“Oh. Ah! Yay!”

 

“C’mon, ladies. It’s time to catch a Pokemon. I mean, Loki.” Natasha lurched forward.  
  
“Loki’s a Pokemon?” asked Pepper, ankles wobbling in her heels.

 

“What’s a Lokimon?”

 

“Oh dear,” murmured Jane, and Maria nodded.

 

Hermione sighed and rubbed at her eyes.

 

“I’m calling you two a cab. You can sleep it off at Pepper’s,” said Hermione, reaching for her mobile.

 

“Yer not sleeping with Tony. He’s mine,” said Pepper, staring at Natasha with bleary eyes.

 

“You can keep’im,” snorted Natasha. “I bet Sev’rus has a way bigger—”

 

“Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalal!” burst out Jane, cheeks burning as she covered her ears.

 

“Thank you,” sighed Hermione. “Hi, yes, I need two cabs at this address. Preferably sooner rather than later…”

 

* * *

 

 

Loki watched the scene half in amusement, half in horror.

 

“We love you, Hermione!”

 

“Thank you, Pepper,” said Hermione, returning Pepper’s sloppy hug and kiss on the cheek that nearly turned out a bit more intimate that either had intended.

 

“We’ll pickle ‘is ‘nards for you,” promised Natasha, deadly serious as she slurred her words and followed after a stumbling Pepper into the awaiting cab. “Gimme some of the wine b’fore y’finish it, you lush.”

 

“Love you, too,” said Hermione, giving the driver Pepper’s address and waving them off.

 

“I’ll call you in the morning,” promised Jane as she entered the second cab.

 

Hermione gave her a one-armed hug. “Will do. Thanks for helping me keep them in line tonight,” she said, turning to Maria. The dark-haired woman shook her head, her smile rueful. “It’s been a while since we had a girls night this productive.”

 

“Hopefully it takes them a day or two to recover. We aren’t as young as we used to be,” said Hermione, and laughed with Maria. Jane was already giving the second cab driver the two addresses (one for her, one for Maria), and the taxi pulled away with the woman waving to each other.

 

From Hermione’s balcony, Loki retreated back inside the apartment to await the object of his...unusually patient, dedicated focus.

 

“I know you’re in here.”

 

From his spot on her couch, Loki looked over his shoulder as Hermione closed the door to her apartment behind her.

 

“What do you want?” she asked, approaching but finding a clear spot of wall to lean against instead of sitting. It kept her on her feet.

 

“How much wine did you all drink tonight?” he asked, somewhat awed and disgusted at the number of bottles scattered around the living room. “I thought you were recovering. Not reducing your liver to a scarred pickle.”

 

“I didn’t think you cared,” she said, arms folded in front of her.

 

He twisted his body and his eyes searched hers out. “Would you like to sit? It is your home.”

 

“What do you want?”

 

He shifted and stood, facing her.

 

“I came to see when you’re returning to active duty. A week, wasn’t it, the doctors said?”

 

“I’m not. I’m retiring. I’ve given Director Fury my notice. You’ll have a new keeper, soon. Congratulations, I hope you work well together,” she said. “Anything else?”

 

His voice flattened, stone-like. “That’s not funny, Hermione.” He bared his teeth.

 

“No, it isn’t,” she agreed.

 

“You will reconsider.” He stood taller, shoulders rounding forward as he glared at her.

 

“Not likely,” she said. “If you have no other business with me,” she reached behind her and unlocked the door again, opening it wide. The invitation was clear.

 

With a swipe of his staff he slammed the door shut, and Hermione was pitched up against the wall. She stifled a grunt of pain as she hit, harder than she’d expected.

 

Her eyes closed instinctively from the pain, she missed the flash of  emotion on Loki’s face.

 

“To be clear we understand each other, I want you to leave,” seethed Hermione. One arm wrapped around her aching middle, and she held herself up against the wall with the other. She prayed the stitches on her back and side had held. With a wince she let herself slide down the wall until she leaned against it from the floor in a pained crouch.

 

“No,” he said, his jaw working hard.

 

She loosened her grip on the wall and summoned her wand, wordlessly.

 

“I am not chasing you. I am not working for the Avengers at the moment. And I did not invite you into my home. If you don’t leave right now, I will consider this a personal attack on my person, and I will imprison you so you never see the light of day again.” Her words were cold, even, and devoid of any of the usual teasing and warmth and dare he say affection she employed with him previously.

 

He took one step, then another, closing in on her even as she raised her wand at him.

 

He reached for her.

 

_“Proteg—_ ”

 

—and lifted her in his arms, curling her against his chest as he had only days before.

 

“Down. Now.”

 

“You need to rest in bed if you’re going to get better,” he said.

 

“Get out.”

 

“Did you eat anything nourishing tonight?”

 

Her fingers clenched on the wand and she jabbed it into the side of his throat.

 

He slowed, but kept moving to her room, gently setting her down on her bed and removing her slippers by hand. With a flick of his hand her covers turned back on her bed and he tilted his head away from the business end of her wand.

 

“I’m going to get you a cup of tea,” he said.

 

He turned his back on her and walked back to the kitchen.

 

She heard the clack and chink of glasses being collected and deposited on the kitchen counter, and swallowed as her eyes filled. She forced the warmth back.

 

A few minutes later he rejoined her and sat on the edge of her bed, offering her a cup of tea made exactly as she liked it. She had already wiped her eyes clear again, but she knew they were red.

 

She immediately pulled a face upon her first sip. “Blech.”

 

“It’s decaf. It’s better for you at night,” he said, wincing as he took his own sip. “Possibly because it tastes so poor one cannot physically consume it.”

 

She ignored him, staring at her cup instead.

 

He finished what he could of his tea, setting the porcelain cup on her nightstand and looking around her room.

 

“May I assume I’m the first man to enter the kingdom?” he asked, taking in the laundry basket, the piles of books on the low-profile bookcase, the writing desk against the far wall, beneath the windows.

 

She didn’t answer.

 

His viridian gaze flickered over her, his face set as he looked away for a moment when she flinched. “Did… Are you hurt?”

 

She still withheld her words, and set her teacup beside his on the nightstand. It was a tight fit amongst the lamp, clock, mobile phone and books, but it was just enough room for them to balance uneasily.

 

They were a lot like the matching cups, she thought.

 

So similar, but unable to balance properly. Barely able to eek out enough space together anywhere, always threatening to tip each other right over the edge and smash on impact.

 

“Hermione, are you hurt?”

 

“Fine. I’m fine,” she said, resting her hands on the coverlet. “You can go.”

 

He folded his hands in his lap and looked at her through his fallen bangs. “I don’t want to,” he said quietly.

 

“You aren’t wanted here.”

 

She again missed his flicker of emotion. “Why not?” he asked, his voice stretched. He cleared his throat subtly. “We’ve always come back to battle again, no matter what our differences were.”

 

“This time the difference is a bit too great,” she said.

 

“No difference is too great for us,” he said, a note of boastful pride colouring his words.

 

“It isn’t about us. There is no us, Loki.”

 

“There is. There’s can’t not be. No one else can be you, or be me. We’re too far above everyone else, Hermione, can’t you recognize that? Don’t you see it? I recognize you as being worthy of me. And I’m the challenge you need. I’m the one you want.” He leaned forward, his words soft, almost whispered along her skin.

 

“Not if you were with her,” she said.

 

He slowed in his stalking, and noted how tightly her knuckles were knotted together.

 

“Bella,” he said aloud, and Hermione’s fingers went white with strain.

 

“I don’t care about your past, Loki. I understand what it is like to be surrounded by people who don’t understand you, who judge you, and who waste their every gift and potential. But I will not tolerate her having any bearing or influence or touch on any relationship I ever have. She has done enough to me in my past; I will not have her take any part in my future.”

 

She lifted her eyes to his, finally, and wouldn’t let him go.

 

“It was fun while it lasted, but it’s over. I hope you find a new,” she swallowed, “best nemesis.”

 

“Just because you know about her now doesn’t mean it changes who I am or what I was, then,” said Loki, reaching out to grasp her fingers and separate each one, prying them apart.

 

“Just because you hate her doesn’t mean you need to hate me,” he said.

 

He slid their palms against each other.

 

“Just because you bear scars doesn’t mean I find you any less beautiful,” he continued.

 

He brought her hands to his lips, kissing each palm.

 

“I don’t begrudge you your past. I don’t begrudge you previous lovers. I don’t begrudge you the fact you’ve always apprehended me when I’ve done my best to ensure I leave you in the dust. Every weakness you’ve overcome, every challenge you’ve met, every success you’ve had I’ve taken pride in, ever since we met, Hermione.”

 

He placed her hands in her lap once more, and cupped her cheek. “You are the most perfect creature, to me.

 

“I can’t change my past. And I won’t. I don’t ask you to be different from what you are.”

 

His tone softened further, and he gently wrapped some of her wild hair around his fingers, enjoying the way it spun and bounced and sprung back in place in resistance.

 

“I don’t want you tame, Hermione.”

 

He leaned closer, his breath caressing her lips. “And you don’t want me tame, either.”

 

His lips ghosted over hers as she panted, trembling, in her efforts to resist him.

 

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered against her ear, his warm breath ghosting across her cheek and throat, leaving fire in its wake.

 

“I don’t want her to be part of you,” she whispered.

 

“I can’t change the past,” he repeated.

 

“I know. I hate it,” she said, clenching her eyes shut. “I can’t reconcile the past with the now.”

 

“You can’t move forward if you can’t look beyond the past. Trust me, I know,” he said, voice somewhat humoured. “You’re embarrassed because you didn’t know and it took you off guard, is that it? And you don’t like that it took you off-balance.”

 

He put his arms around her, gently pulling her into his chest where she buried her face.

 

“I hate that she had you first,” muttered Hermione into his shirt.

 

Against his will the chuckle burst from him, shaking Hermione with its strong vibration. She slapped him on the arm, flushing.

 

He pulled away from her—surprised by her strong grip as she hid her face.

 

Grinning madly he nuzzled her throat. “She didn’t.”

 

“Whuh?”

 

Hermione’s overbright, red-rimmed eyes took in his wide grin, his pleased, high brows.

 

Holding her tightly, he shook his head. “Bella and I were never intimate, Hermione. We were business associates, if you want to look at it from that perspective. She was married. And batshit insane.”

 

“Pot, I’d like to introduce you to kettle,” she pointed out, cheeks still pink amidst her glare.

 

He laughed.

 

She pulled back further at that, and he sighed, holding her closer to him.

 

“Don’t get embarrassed,” he cajoled, running a hand down her back. Suddenly she felt a feather-light tingling in the wake of his touch, soothing her bruises. Healing magic. He truly had studied as a PSW or medic… for her.

 

“But if you’re jealous, I’m happy to stir you up a bit and reap the benefits,” he murmured into her hair, voice deep and low and already stirring something else deep inside her.

 

“I expect benefits, too,” she said, turning her face into his throat and taking a tentative nibble at his throat. She squirmed in his arms when he couldn’t quite stifle his groan.

 

“You’ll have them,” he promised, bending his neck to give her better access as his hands settled on her hips and pulled her closer, even as he pushed himself further up onto her bed. “As many as I can possibly give you every night. And morning. And afternoon.” He groaned again as she made her way down to his pulse and sucked on it.

 

“We can work out a schedule,” she breathed against his impossibly perfect skin.

 

“I expect spontaneous benefits every so often. And wake-up benefits with your beautiful, erudite, full lips.”

 

“I expect to be rewarded for the benefits I provide,” she said, her hands finally reaching up to push his mantle from his shoulders to pool on the floor. “Gods, you have more buttons than Severus,” she complained, before tugging his shirt loose from his trousers.

 

“I have more than him in every department,” he swore hoarsely. “Where am I not allowed to touch? Do you still have stitches?”

 

“Left side of my back, beneath my shoulder blade. And you’re right. You definitely have a bigger ego.” She undid his buckle and rose up on her knees to gain leverage over him. She shoved him back by his shoulders, and he fell back agreeably onto the bed his arms splayed out at his sides.

 

He smirked at her.

 

She rolled her eyes. “I walked right into that one, and no you don’t need to fill in any blanks.”

 

“No, I intend to fill—”

 

She gasped as he did as promised.

 

Her nails sunk deep into the skin of his back giving him battle scars he’d happily enjoy for the rest of his life. The way she gripped and stroked his heart until he couldn’t take it anymore didn’t hurt, either.

 

* * *

  
  
Jane bit her lip to keep from laughing as Natasha and Pepper gripped their coffee in pale hands several days later. They still hadn’t removed their sunglasses.

 

“We haven’t heard from Hermione. Does she still need us to go through with the plan?” asked Pepper, her voice calm and quiet and stronger than it had been the morning before.

 

Smiling into the screen of her computer from where she spoke to the pair, Jane shook her head. “She sent me a _patronus_ to let me know she was doing well but needed some private time over the next few days to work something out. She said not to worry about Loki for the time being.”

 

“Speaking of, I haven’t heard anything out of him for a while.” said Natasha. “What’s he up to? I don’t trust this silence.”

 

“Pepper? Pepper are you in there with Widow? Why isn’t she gone yet?”  
  
“Shut the Hell up, Stark!” shouted Natasha, and Pepper reached a shaky hand to her temple.

 

“Did you call Snape to ask about those headache potions Hermione talked about?” asked Pepper faintly.

 

“He’s hard to reach right now,” muttered Natasha.

 

“Caught wind of the containment chamber you planned to put him in?” asked Jane innocently.

 

“It wasn’t meant to be permanent, just until we came to an agreement about a few things,” said Natasha.

 

“So, yes?”

 

“I’ll see if I can reach Hermione to ask her to pass along the request. They use owls for this kind of thing,” said Jane. “Maybe I can find one at the park.”

 

“Bless you, Jane,” said Pepper with feeling.

 

A knock sounded at Jane’s door, and she waved goodbye to her friends. “Get some rest, I’ll be in touch.”

 

The connection cut as she opened the door and accepted the large bouquet of brilliantly blooming flowers, smiling as she buried her face in them. She signed for them and settled them on the well-worn coffee table, and dug around the stems to locate the card.

 

_With Gratitude_

 

_-L/H_

 

Biting her lip, she gave a small squeal and danced on the spot a moment.

 

“Is everything alright?” Thor asked, peering around the door from the kitchen.

 

Jane’s bright eyes and flushed face gave away her excitement, and she hopped happily to Thor and flung her arms around him.

 

“What’s this for?” he asked, not minding at all when she kissed him deeply on the lips in her enthusiasm. His arms came around her middle and pulled her closer.

 

“Just happy that other people get to be happy, too. Especially those who deserve it.”

 

His brow furled in puzzlement, Thor rubbed his bearded chin against her soft hair. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

 

“Very happy,” she said.

 

Probably almost as happy as the two tucked away in Hermione’s apartment, she mused, and giggled. They still hadn’t shown any signs of surfacing, and it had been days.

 

Poor Director Fury. He’d have to deal with Hermione trying to bring Loki on as a full Avenger, now. They’d never be insurable again. On the positive side, with Hermione’s final ‘mission’ being effectively cancelled (or completed, depending on one’s perspective), they had a small budget surplus. And she had research that needed more budget...

 

Against her ear Thor rumbled in contentment and nipped at her throat, and Jane’s breath caught. Hmm. Hopefully her tenant insurance covered acts of gods, because she was pretty sure there was about to be one on her couch...

 

* * *

  
  
**The End.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Happy birthday, Uchiha.S! :D Wishing you all the happiness and cake with awesomesauce you can handle on your special day. ^_^ Much love!
> 
> AN2: Yes, titles were shamelessly filched from videogames. Apart from the original prompt, which I pulled from a writing-prompt website. I hope you’ve enjoyed! Comments feed the muse—and with this being my first cross-over fic (and foray into ‘Avengers’-territory), any and all feedback’s appreciated. 
> 
> Much love to you, readers, and happy weekend!
> 
> \--mm

**Author's Note:**

> (Fic written for uchiha.s's birthday; posting for everyone to enjoy)
> 
> AN: So… Canon’s more of a suggestion or set of guidelines than a hard, fast rule, with this one. Nothing recognisable belongs to me.


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